After a Battle Well Fought
by K Hanna Korossy
Summary: LARP and the Real Girl tag: The only thing better than the fight is the celebration after.


**After a Battle Well Fought**  
K Hanna Korossy

The dwarf looked completely earnest.

"You were an admirable foe, sir. It was an honor to be beaten by one such as you."

Dean had been surprised the first few times one of the enemy warriors had showed him props—er, _paid him homage?_ —but he was getting used to it now. He gave the dwarf a grin and a nod. "Thanks, man. Uh, little guy. Dwarf? Dwarf. Uh, nice beard." He pushed past, rolling his eyes at himself and almost spilling the drinks he was carrying in the process.

The queen had her own special table, but Sam was holding court with her, leaning in as they talked. The table was sized for Charlie, so Sam's legs poked out comically on either side. Several Moondorians had already tripped over them as they came by to pay their respects to the queen.

Dean juggled the three mugs—tankards? flagons? He'd have to ask Sam—as he got close, shooting a grin at another orc who gave him a nod of respect. The battle had been all kinds of amazing even if the violence was strictly regulated, but the feasting after was even better. And the belonging. Comrades in arms, Dean smirked as an elf gave him a sly wink.

He paused to let a group of ogres pass and, hidden behind their sizeable bulk, heard Charlie's voice.

"… _about the poser text he sent you from your ex. Sorry."_

Dean went still.

" _S'okay. Really. Dean wasn't wrong—I had to pick: in or out."_

Dean's shoulders loosened.

" _And you picked in? Seriously?"_

Sam huffed a laugh. _"How's staying out working for you?"_

" _Point."_

The last lumberer passed, and Dean quickly stepped to the left behind one of the pub tent's papier-mâché pillars.

Charlie had just heaved a sigh. _"I get it, I guess. I mean, the normal life's been my holy grail ever since you two pulled the curtain back on the weird, but…it's not exactly a bell you can unring."_

Dean chewed the inside of his lip.

 _"Right, the_ normal _life,"_ Sam said with a laugh in his voice. _"Your highness."_

 _"Hey,"_ Charlie protested, _"I said normal, not boring."_

Okay, enough. He already knew where Sam and he stood; he had to stop testing the guy. Though, truth be told, what he'd just heard did ease something inside him. Dean wiped his expression and stepped out from behind the pillar, still juggling the three ales. "Sorry, even the victors gotta stand in line."

He got a pair of smiles in return, both of them appearing genuine. "Yeah, even royalty only takes you so far here," Charlie said, accepting a drink.

Dean dropped in his seat, shoving the second ale at Sam while picking up his own. "What're we talking about?"

"Oh, just how awesome we were on the battle field today," Charlie preened. "Dude, that move with the archers—"

"Yeah—how exactly would you know where to send the archers?" Sam leaned back.

"Basic combat strategy," Dean said in his best _duh!_ voice. "Dad would've been able to do this kinda thing in his sleep."

"Well, I didn't get that gene," Sam said, not looking the least sorry about that as he took a drink. To Charlie, he added, "Dean's been a soldier all his life." Those would've been fighting words once, but if Dean had to put a label on it, he would've said Sam now seemed…impressed.

"Congratulations," someone else squealed next to Dean, and he gave the orc a grin. Geez, voice that high, guy should've aimed for elf or something, not a scary orc. Still, it was cool to hear. This LARPing thing was actually pretty awesome.

Charlie and Sam were both smiling at him again when he looked back.

Dean blinked. "What?"

Sam shook his head as Charlie glanced sideways at him. "You weren't so bad yourself, Firbolg. I saw, like, two elves put their arms down just 'cause they saw you coming."

Sam blushed, even as he mouthed _Firbolg?_ to Dean.

Dean shrugged, happily drinking what was some pretty fine ale. He'd look it up later. And if Sam was getting a cool name, he'd have to get one, too. Dean the Brave? Lord Winchester the…Wise? Yeah, no.

His gaze roamed the makeshift pub over the rim of his…cup? Whatever. Everyone was having a good time, even the losing armies, and a few threw him appreciative looks as his gaze fell on them. He returned each one, a happy twist in his gut—even if for one night, he had his people!—then caught sight of the blonde eyeing their table coyly.

He drew himself up, gave her his best smile back…only to have her look right past him.

Oh.

He nudged. "Your highness, I think you've got an admirer." As she looked over at him, he nodded at Blondie.

Charlie's eyes widened. "Is she…? You sure she's not…? Wait a minute." She turned back to Sam, and Dean followed her gaze to see his brother turn red.

He raised an eyebrow at Sam. "You making friends with the locals, Sammy?"

"I'm not…she's…she just helped me out." Off Dean's look, he threw up his hands. "In the tech tent! Come on, Dean."

"I'm thinking it's another tent she wants to see you in, dude," Charlie said wryly.

Dean tipped his…flagon, he was gonna call it a flagon…to Charlie and eyed Sam.

Normally at this point, he would've been goading his brother to do something about a girl who was blatantly interested in him, and not for his mad tech skills. But it hadn't been that long since Sam had said goodbye to Amelia, and Dean knew that couldn't have been easy. Sam had let him have this day; he could let Sam decide if and when he was ready to make a move.

But Sam was kinda watching her back.

Huh. Dean's lips curved. "You can just go talk to her, man. See if it goes anywhere."

"Yeah. Uh, yeah, maybe." Sam looked a little nervous, and Dean was reminded of a teenage Sam, hair in his eyes and fidgeting uncertainly as he watched a girl he liked.

"So…" Charlie said with her usual mischievous half grin, and Dean was struck with the sudden thought that this, on the other hand, must be what having a little sister was like.

"I'll just…uh, I'll go say hi." Sam stood, nearly tripped on the table leg as he tried to extricate those stilts of his, then, red-faced, headed toward the blonde. Somebody stopped him on the way to give him a comradely pat on the shoulder, and Sam smiled back at the guy—troll? ogre? Dean didn't even know—before moving on.

Yeah, this was maybe something they'd both needed. He hadn't felt this relaxed and content in…what year was it again?

"Sam's right," Charlie drew his attention back, to see her watching him with a softer look.

"'Bout what?" Dean asked, taking a drink.

"Happy looks good on you."

Dean almost swallowed wrong. "He said that?"

"Well, not those exact words because, you know, you two might spontaneously combust if you said something nice about each other, but…yeah. Pretty much."

Sam had taken a seat across from the blonde and they were having an animated discussion. Dean looked away when he saw her hand inch toward one of Sam's splayed knees, studying Charlie's open face instead, letting himself take in what she was saying. Maybe he and Sam weren't as far apart as he'd feared.

"Yeah, well… He's had it rough lately, too." Dean took a breath, reminding himself of Sam's _Dean wasn't wrong,_ and gave her a small smile. "So, what's next for you, your majesty?"

Her look was a little more rueful. "I think this quest's over, but…I don't know. Reality's kinda boring once you've seen behind the mask, you know?"

"I'm sorry," he said honestly.

She toyed with her flagon. "Hey, not your fault. Not like you brought the monsters with you." Another small smile. "I guess I'm with Sam—some of us just aren't cut out for Muggle life." Even as Dean opened his mouth to ask further, she brightened. "Hey, you wouldn't know any fairy-summoning spells, would you? You know, the totally non-douchey-controlling kind?"

Dean snorted. "Go find a clearing, make a ring with some rocks, and stand in it. The way you two were goin' at it, I'm pretty sure she'll come looking for you." He leaned in close. "Just don't forget, once you get touched by a fairie—"

"There's no going back?" she asked playfully.

"Let's just say, your eyes get opened."

Hers got so wide, she looked like one of those anime chicks. "Wow, seriously? Like, even now you can see 'em?"

He looked over at the ring of lights dancing to the music a small band was playing in the corner. "Oh yeah," he sighed.

If anything, she looked more excited at the thought. "Okay, sorry, gotta go." She drained her cup as she stood, then leaned down again to pat his shoulder and whisper in his ear. "By the way, victorious warriors? Very popular around here at night." Her eyes dancing, she nodded to his right, then hurried away.

He followed her lead, to see a badass warrior girl giving him a serious _come hither_ look. And, man, he'd never thought a leather breastplate sexy before, but he was totally a convert.

A quick look around revealed the tent flap closing after Charlie, and Sam and the blonde huddled together in their own little world. Back to Lara Croft, who was… Dean's mouth went dry. No way. These chicks took their role-playing _way_ seriously.

He stood and weaved his way over to her, crowds parting before the warrior who had defeated them, sword clanking against his chain mail, Xena the warrior princess waiting for him, and Dean felt something rare: a moment of complete, uncomplicated happiness.

Sam laughed behind him as lithe gloved fingers slipped into Dean's and tugged.

Best. Day. Ever.

 **The End**


End file.
